Outlast
by staringatstars07
Summary: Gavin Reed isn't needed. He isn't wanted. It's true, he knows it is. But his cat would disagree.


**A/N: Inspired by some incredible Gavin art by julientel on tumblr. Pretty sure I can't post links, though, so just replace the () with periods.**

 **julientel(tumblr)com/post/179516685046/elijah-always-tried-to-keep-an-eye-on-his-brother#notes**

 **julientel(tumblr)com/post/179458799556/stop-thinking-about-the-easy-way-out-theres-no#notes**

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The last cage in the pound was home to a cat that leaned towards the heavy side, and stared at Gavin while licking its lips like it wanted to claw his heart out and eat it with a side of caviar. There was a piece of paper taped to the bars that warned against letting the orange tabby near kids. As if it wasn't hard enough for adult pets to find a home.

It looked at him like it wanted to devour his soul, and after holding that gaze for over a minute, Gavin tapped the curly haired teenager mopping the tile on the shoulder, and pointed out the hissing feline. "I want that one."

That was how he'd found himself the proud owner of Garfield's meanest second cousin. The instant the latch to the transport cage was open, the cat came bursting out, scrambling across the linoleum to dart under the old, beaten-up couch Gavin had gotten cheap at a yard sale. For weeks it took to slipping under chairs, tables, and even Gavin's bed. The last of these was more of a problem than the others since he couldn't avoid his own bed without ceding control of the house to the cat, which wasn't going to happen unless the tabby started paying off the mortgage, so he took the occasional hiss and scratch, endured the poisonous, hateful hisses that drowned out the news whenever he tried to pretend like he cared what was happening with the world.

Honestly, everything was such an unsalvageable and depressing mess these days that he almost preferred listening to the cat's unintelligible threats. But slowly, after weeks of giving it space, feeding it, and taking out the litter box, it began to warm to him. Or, that was how he chose to interpret the feline stalking into the kitchen to lap at its water bowl while he watched, or hopping on top of his comforter instead of curling up beneath it.

One night, after a particularly rough case had him shaken, Gavin woke to find a lump pressed against his side, and peeked under the sheets to find the cat blinking groggily, as though the jolt of his body stiffening from the nightmare had woken it. Funnily enough, when the cat stared back at him almost accusingly, its long pointed ears flicking with irritation, he found the urge to apologize sitting on the tip of his tongue. Instead, he laughed, a low chuckle that rumbled in his chest, and the cat settled its head on his ribs, its caramel eyes blinking slowly as if to say, _Are you done?_

And for the rest of the night, Gavin didn't have nightmares. When he woke up next, the cat was gone, only to come again the next night, and the night after.

Gavin even liked to joke that the reason he could finally get some sleep most nights was due to the combined might of their terrible attitudes scaring the bad dreams away.

Suddenly, it wasn't just some asshole cat he'd adopted. It was _his_ asshole cat.

And this mattered. Because if it were just any old cat, he wouldn't be hesitating to put a bullet through his jaw, send it ricocheting through his cranium until it turned everything in there into brain jam.

He didn't even really know why he felt like this.

He'd talked to Tina in the break room about what she was going to do with her AP700 now that androids were becoming deviant, made some headway on one of the dozens of Missing Persons that seemed to keep piling on his desk.

There was no proof to say androids were involved in the increase of disappearances, but even Anderson had to agree that rising number of cases seemed to coincide with the rise of deviancy. Not all the androids had Markus' restraint, or followed his pacifistic beliefs. There were androids claiming he didn't speak for them, calling him a coward for being willing to compromise with humankind to achieve peace.

Personally, Gavin thought the problem was simple - the world didn't need anymore humans. With emotions came fear, trauma, depression, anxiety, jealousy, rage. There was nothing good about feeling. Once the deviants learned that, it would already be too late.

There was no future in Detroit.

Certainly not one worth sticking around for.

Tina might miss him for a hot minute if he checked out early, but she'd find someone else to have coffee with, and he was damn sure nobody else around the precinct would. They'd have his desk assigned to some rookie within the week, and whoever they were, they'd be a better detective than he was. It wasn't like it was hard.

He'd set the bar pretty low, after all.

Would the cat eat his face if it started getting hungry? He'd heard of such things happening when deceased with pets went undiscovered for too long, and while he'd been lucky enough not to see it firsthand, the same couldn't be said for Miller or Collins.

"Hey, Tuffnut," Gavin grumbled, raising his raspy, smoke-addled voice softly over the purrs of the feline gently laying its head within the crook his neck, fitting its warm body against his chest, "you wouldn't eat my face would you?"

If he were serious about this, then he should leave a bag of cat food on the floor. Except he wasn't serious… right? Truth be told, he shouldn't have had the whiskey. It was supposed to dull the thoughts, numb the pain, but now it felt like a fire greedily chewing up his defenses, leaving him vulnerable and exposed as a first degree burn.

Instead of answering, Tuffnut pawed at his shirt, their claws getting hooked in the fabric. He barely felt the scratching. When he closed his eyes, the cold of the barrel resting against his cheek was all he could think about. His mind didn't register time passing, or the insistent, almost obnoxious buzzing of his cell, until a familiar and frankly unwelcome voice called out his name from the foyer, "Gavin? Are you there?"

Right.

He'd left the front door open, hadn't he?

There was a muttered curse coming from the living room as Kamski tried to navigate his way through a the mess of take-out food cartons and dirty laundry, "Jesus, Gav-"

Sounds which stopped abruptly when Elijah's profile filled the doorway, his eyes wide, mouth parted slightly as though whatever he'd been about to say had turned to ash the instant he walked in on the scene playing out in the kitchen. "Gavy?"

And too late, Gavin remembered the chill of the barrel resting against his forehead, the empty bottle of whiskey, the tray of cigarette buds. The blank sheet of paper and pen.

Through the dazed stupor of alcohol, he heard himself ask sarcastically if Kamski had come to help him finish the job. Before he could even finish getting the words out, a strong grip took him by the collar of his green sweater, ignoring the warning hiss of his cat as Tuffnut ducked out of the tent of Gavin's arms, while another grabbed the gun and ripped it from his hand, tossing it aside.

Gavin frowned, protesting as he was dragged roughly to his feet, "Hey, lemme go!"

Of course Elijah didn't listen. He never listened.

The ground tilted beneath his feet, and he stumbled, only to be pulled up and half-carried to the bathroom. He barely reacted when Elijah turned on the shower, not putting the pieces together until a palm cupped the back of his head and forced it under the spray. The water pelting his head and neck and back was cold as ice, and he shouted curses, alertness coming with a fresh wave of anger. "WHAT THE FUCK-"

"Shut it." Elijah's answer sounded strained, as though he were teetering on the verge of some big emotion that Gavin doubted he was capable of. "It's for your own good." He kept him from getting out until he was satisfied that Gavin was at least thinking clearly and capable of holding a conversation, if not entirely sober. When he was satisfied, he switched off the shower, then tossed the nearest towel at Gavin's head. "Dry yourself." Gavin narrowed his eyes into a potent glare, though Kamski didn't acknowledge it beyond a stiff, "You don't want to catch a cold."

Sinking down onto the floor, Gavin placed the towel on his head in the hopes of soaking up some of the cold water dripping down his back. His shirt clung uncomfortably to his skin, the stink of sweat and booze and cigarettes saturating every stitch in the faded green fabric.

"I wasn't gonna do it," he muttered half-heartedly when Kamski sat down beside him. It sounded false, but it wasn't exactly a lie, either. He hadn't really known what he was going to do, or what would have happened if Elijah hadn't shown up when he did.

"Are you sure about that? Because I'm not." Judging by the subtle trembling of his half-brother's hands, though he had one gripped by the wrist in an attempt to keep it still, his genius intellect had his thoughts running down a similar path. He always did think too much.

"What would you care if I did, anyway?" Gavin snapped with an energy he didn't feel, watching the vein running over Kamski's temple pulse in time with the rapid beating of his heart. In all honesty, he didn't really want to know why Elijah had chosen today, of all days, to pay him a visit. Especially after not even bothering to text or call for actual, literal years.

"You've said a lot of dumb things in your lifetime, Gavin," he started coldly, "but that had to be the dumbest. Do you have any idea how-" The hand around his wrist clenched. He breathed, long and slow. "You're not replaceable, Gavin."

Gavin shuddered, a hard, involuntary tremor that jarred his bones and clacked his teeth together. He gritted his teeth, nostrils flaring. "You've already replaced me." His limbs felt like they were made of concrete, keeping his eyes open was a chore. "A hundred, a thousand times over." None of this mattered. No one wanted him around, so what? It was old news. Now, Gavin just wanted to sleep. Hunching his shoulders so he didn't have to see his half-brother's face, he muttered,"Go home, Elijah."

And before Kamski could reply, a distressed yowling from out in the hallway cut him off. Frantic clawing at the door, following by an orange-and-white blur darting in to scramble onto Gavin's lap and paw insistently at his chest. Tuffnut bumped against his wet cheek with their pink nose as a series of high-pitched, distressed mews filled the bathroom. Without thinking, Gavin took Tuffnut with both hands, scratching them gently between their pointed ears and under their chin. In that moment, it was the only he could think about - calming down his cat.

He didn't think about Elijah again until his voice, hushed as it was, broke through the haze, "Chloe?" A pause as someone responded through the piece with blue LED light pressed against his ear. "Could you cancel my meetings for the next week?" Whatever he heard next made him smile. "Thank you."

While he'd been speaking, Gavin hold grabbed ahold of the bathtub's rim, using it to help him rise to his feet. In his rush to stand up, Elijah accidentally put his hand in the puddle that had came as a result of Gavin's soaked hair and shirt, and grimaced as he straightened. He knew better than to offer help, though he was there if Gavin asked for it and close enough to lend a hand if Gavin needed it. Shooting him a glare that practically dared him to say anything, Gavin managed to work past the lingering burn of whiskey in his throat. "What was that? Using little ol' me as an excuse to take a holiday from the life of the rich and famous?"

Elijah followed him out into the living room, not quite close enough to be hovering, but close enough to earn him an irritated scowl. "I'm not…" His steps came to a halt by the couch while Gavin continued into the kitchen to replace his cat's water, "good with people." A scoff was the only response he heard from the kitchen. Setting his ear piece and wallet down on the coffee table, Kamski gave the couch an appraising eye, "So I'll let my actions do the speaking for me," and plopped down on top of it - a bit primly but with an air of finality, as if he were going to be taking up residence indefinitely on Gavin's beat-up used sofa.

"What are you-" Leaning against the kitchen counter while a pot of water for the coffee he planned to guzzle heated up on the stove, Gavin stared at him in slack-jawed disbelief. It was just so surreal to see to Elijah Kamski, former CEO of CyberLife and Mr. Not-A-Hair-Out-Of-Place, sitting down on a secondhand couch in his disaster-zone living room while doing his best to touch as little of the cushion's surface as possible, yet somehow managing to look resolved despite it.

It seemed like he was psyching himself for an argument, but Gavin just didn't have the energy. Duking it out like men could wait until after he'd ingested a metric ton of caffeine. Followed by a nap. Or a coma.

"Fine." He waved one hand dismissively while the other switched off the pot before it could start to scream. "But be careful of my cat. He's not good with…" The tabby perked up upon hearing their name, padded from the corner of the kitchen to the living room, then leapt into Elijah's lap, stunning both men. After hesitating with a palm raised over the tabby's head, Elijah mustered the courage to scratch between Tuffnut's ears, eliciting a contented purring that, Gavin noted a little wryly, had taken weeks of patience for him to hear. "You're a traitor to your kind," he muttered to the cat, as he entered the room with a mug of steaming coffee in his hands. "I hope you're happy."

Tuffnut glanced up at his approach, met his eyes, flicked their pink tongue out, then proceeded to nuzzle Elijah's neck, tickling the underside of his chin with their long whiskers.

Uncertain of how to interpret the scoff that Gavin uttered at the shameless display of affection, Elijah asked, "Does that mean your cat wants me to stay?"

Humming thoughtfully under his breath, Gavin gave the ginger fur on Tuffnut's head a fond ruffle, "Sure looks that way." A low chuckle with a touch of genuine humor slipped past his weakened defenses. "Tuffnut here's the temporarily-appointed brain of the operation." Running his fingers through his hair, he blew out a frustrated breath. "What he says goes until I can walk in a straight line." Wordlessly, Elijah nodded. Already he missed having Chloe around to explain the nuances of human interaction, as ironic as that was.

Seeing Elijah was serious about staying on the couch, which meant a lot since he was probably used to a chiropractor's recommended mattress, Gavin's gaze softened slightly, though he quickly hid even that much with a cartoonishly exaggerated yawn as he made his way to the foyer. Striding towards his room, he called without turning, words already blending with exhaustion,"There's more hot water in the kitchen if you want. And if you're hungry, there's microwave pizza in the freezer…" He stopped, hand bracing on the corner at the start of the hallway, then smirked wryly over his shoulder, "Hope you like pineapple."

Several rapid footsteps preceded the sound of a door slamming shut, which Elijah chose not to take personally. A quick glance towards the now empty kitchen revealed the gun was still on the floor where he'd thrown it, and Tuffnut's bowl of water and food were refilled. After squeezing his eyes shut for a minute, he entered the kitchen to pour himself a cup of coffee and pocket the firearm, went back to his car to retrieve his pad, then sat back on the couch, allowing Tuffnut to curl up on his lap, and got to work.

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 **A/N: I'd like to think sixteen-year-old Gavin Reed is as excited about the third HTTYD movie as the rest of us.**


End file.
